The Norwood Builder
by aquagirl520
Summary: "Date with Mary, check. Upcoming case, check. Can't stand her up again. Needs to keep an eye on Sherlock..." Modernization of 'The Adventure of the Norwood Builder', Sherlock/John implications but no heavier than the BBC series. Reviews welcome


**So upon my severe addiction to BBC Sherlock, I've dived back into the original novels (very productive classes spent with the books hidden under open textbooks XD), hence this modernization. I will dose this with the most fluff I could without taking the focus from the mystery (which is not nearly enough, to be honest). You have been warned ^^**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing… though I would really, really love to XD**

Chapter 1

"Listen, Sherlock, I'm taking Mary out for lunch. There's leftover Chinese in the fridge, next to the severed fingers, you just have to put it in the microwave…" John said, holding up the box of Chinese takeout as if to demonstrate, while hoping his flat mate remembered to clean the microwave after his last 'experiment', which involved human eyeballs. "You do know how to use the microwave for non-research purposes, right?" It wasn't a ridiculous question at all, as the microwave was originally bought for the sole purpose of being lab equipment.

No reply came from the sitting room, though John could tell from the footsteps that Sherlock hadn't left the flat. He sighed and resigned himself to writing down instructions to tape to the takeout box.

"Mrs. Hudson went to the super yesterday, so there are still groceries in here if you want to make something yourself, not that… are you even listening to me?"

"I'm BORED!" was Sherlock's shouted reply. The consulting detective was pacing back and forth as he wrung his hands in the air in agitation. It is a wonder how the carpets hadn't worn through from his constant pacing about. The wall had, for this time at least, remained unscathed as well, since John had confiscated his revolver. Finding it would be of no difficulty, of course, to the consulting detective, but it had just been a little over two months since he returned to 221b, and there was just enough guilt left for his sudden, unannounced disappearance of 3 years for Sherlock to keep from trying despite wanting to blow a hole through the damned wall.

"What _hateful_ tranquil the city is in, John!" Sherlock muttered, glaring through the window at the scene of a peaceful London morning. "London has become so _boring_ after-"

"-After Moriarty's death?" John prompted, raising his eyebrows accusingly over the door of the fridge, though he hardly expected Sherlock to pick up the sarcasm.

And of course, he didn't. "Yes, obviously. I'm sure he's better off dead, but _the criminals_! Nothing but dull, petty crimes around town lately, perpetrated by the most idiotic of idiots! Nothing worth glancing at, nothing worth a _challenge_!" He ranted on, crazed like an addict off drugs too long. "I _need_ a _case_, John!"

The former army doctor sighed, exasperated. "Didn't we just get back from that dratted case in Friesland? Isn't almost getting killed by that lunatic enough excitement for you?"

"Ah, but that's _two days _ago!" Sherlock shouted in a way that suggested 'two days' might have meant 'two years'."

"I should get changed…" John muttered, looking at his watch. It was already half-past eleven, and he was supposed to meet Mary at quarter to twelve. "…There's nothing on your website?"

"Too dull to even glance at. A burglary, an open-and-shut case of insurance fraud… the _state_ of the criminal world these days!" Sherlock exclaimed, shaking his head with contempt. "I _need _a case!"

He can't be _that_ bored, John thought. After all, he hadn't even started looking for the hidden cigarettes yet. Just his luck Sherlock decided to throw a fit when he has plans, though two month's worth of observation gave John the sneaking suspicion that Sherlock was being difficult on purpose. Like a child that got cross when the parents paid attention to a younger sibling.

"Boys, your laundry!" Mrs. Hudson called as she made her way upstairs with the folded laundry in her arms. "Should really have you boys do your own housework, I'm not your housekeeper, mind." She added as an afterthought, though she smiled endearingly and went to make them tea.

"Er, thanks, Mrs. Hudson." Said John, and he threw Sherlock a disapproving look when he ignored the cheerful landlady.

"No case?" She inquired with a pointed look at Sherlock, who had taken the skull from the mantelpiece to engage in a one-sided discussion over the decrease in decent crime rate.

"Yeah."

"Oh, Sherlock, I'm sure a good one will come up. One of those triple homicides, or something of the like."

"Been watching CSI last night, Mrs. Hudson?" asked John, who had seen the episode the previous night. Briefly, though, before he changed the channel irritably as Sherlock had blurted out the ending while harshly criticizing the flaws of the show.

"Yes, they were doing reruns of the Miami series. I do love those, Florida's a wonderful place, wouldn't you agree?" Mrs. Hudson said cheerfully.

"The kettle's boiling, I'll go get you boys some tea-"

"I don't need tea, I need a case! My mind needs work!" Sherlock yelled at the skull, tossing it unceremoniously behind him as he flopped onto the couch.

"He does get rather horrible at time like this, doesn't he?" Mrs. Hudson said sympathetically as John lunged forward to catch the skull, firmly planted it back on the mantelpiece, and wondered if he should have it bolted down.

"Mrs. Hudson!"

"Oh, I'm leaving, I'm leaving- Goodness!"

She had barely taken two steps when the doorbell rang.

There was a short, urgent ring, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone beating the door insistently.

"A case!" Sherlock grinned, springing from the couch, then added with an air of delight, "An urgent matter too, by the sound of it."

Mrs. Hudson went to answer the door. Upstairs, they hear the loud bang of the door flinging open just a second after the lock clicked open. This was followed by frantic scatters of loud footsteps as whoever was outside ascended the stairs two at a time. In seconds, they were met with a frantic, disheveled, and white-faced young man.

John estimated the potential client to be in his late-twenties. The young man looked something like prey pursued by fierce predators, his blue eyes widened in fear and breaths shaky and uneven from running. Asthmatic, John's medical trainings told him, but he didn't bother to pass that thought along to Sherlock, as the detective had probably already noted the information down and labeled it unimportant.

"Here you go, dear, you look like you could use a cuppa." Mrs. Hudson said kindly, handing him the cup of tea originally meant for Sherlock.

"T-thank you." The stranger said gratefully, his voice still shaking as he took the cup from Mrs. Hudson with trembling fingers.

"Go on then, the case. Try not to be too boring." Sherlock said, settling himself into his chair in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion. John rolled his eyes.

"Well, I-" He took a deep breath as to steel himself before speaking. "I am Hector McFarlane."

They waited a moment, but no words came after the announcement. This Hector McFarlane had declared his name in a way that suggested they should know at once who he is and what his business is.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. He glanced at John, and then said, "Is that name supposed to be familiar to me?"

"I reckoned-"

"-Because other than fact that you work at a law firm in Blackheath, you're still living with your parents, that you've done quite a bit of writing in the past few days, that you were on your way back to Blackheath when you received news that made you rush to London as fast as possible, and that you don't appear on crap telly, since both John and Mrs. Hudson look absolutely puzzled about your identity, I can tell you nothing else about who you are."

Hector stared, mouth agape in amazement. "That's exactly right! How did-"

"-No, don't ask him that-" John interrupted, but it was too late.

"-Judging from your hair and the untidy shave I'd wager you did not press that shirt so meticulously yourself, so someone did it for you, whoever it is also packed your overnight bag I'd assume. No ring, and you don't seem keen on keeping up appearances so I'd guess no girlfriend, mother it is then. Sheaf of legal document sticking out from the binder in you overnight bag tells us where you work, obviously, and-"

"-Sherlock, that's enough showing off, you've made your point." John interrupted. "It's clear that he has urgent business, would you let the poor bloke talk?"

"…My brain could use the exercise." Sherlock grumbled, throwing John a hurt-puppy look. He did stop ranting on, but chose to voice his annoyance by curling up in his chair with his nose in his smart phone.

Hector looked puzzled, but spoke nevertheless.

"However you managed to know all that, Mr. Holmes, you're completely right." Hector said, then, suddenly remembering why he had rushed to the consulting detective; he glanced nervously out the window, before exclaiming, "You've got to help me, before the police get here to arrest me!"

"Arrest you?" John asked. "What for?"

"Our friend here has made the headlines, John." Sherlock said lazily as he held his phone up to show the latest news.

MURDER OF RETIRED ARCHITECT: SUSPECT ON THE RUN

Underneath the headline is what looked to be the high school yearbook photo of Hector McFarlane.

"Brilliant! This is starting to get interesting." Said Sherlock, who had finally become interested enough to sit up straight. "Just in time, I was just saying there weren't enough interesting cases in London anymore."

"Timing, Sherlock." John chided with a disguised cough, a comment, which, to nobody's surprise, was shrugged off by his flatmate.

**A/N: I love how they are like this couple who's been married forever XD Since I'll have a lot more free time from school lately, I expect this to move along fairly quickly, though it still really depends on the feedback :) So please leave a review~ **


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